Don't pull my string

Today at work my friends and I got onto a conversation about our favorite childhood toys. These were some of the more popular ones: colorforms, play kitchens, a "thumbelina" doll, transformers, plastic record players with those colored records, an easy bake oven, silly sand and shrinky dinks. The youngest in the group was 28 and the oldest was 41. The conversation was lighthearted and extremely humourous; the 28 year old guy is still obsessed with the one transformer he owned and the sticker book of his dreams which never made it into his little hands. Discussing childhood is a regular occurance for me; I think about it all the time, I've carried childlike traits into my adult world and can talk about it like it was an hour ago. I loved it and would go back in a second if I could. If you pull the string that's coming from thumbelina's back she'll cry - my string broke from too much pulling.

So the conversation today was very enjoyable to say the least, partly because it was just so damn fun to do on a Wednesday in February at two o'clock in the afternoon, but mostly because in that one moment I could feel everyones childish joy - even if their childhood was not necessarily joyful. It's kind of funny that it only took three posts on this so called "lesbian" blog to revert back to childhood. For the same reasons I stayed in my basement for hours listening to my records, I don't feel like I want any part of this "blogging" world for fear of not liking stuff I see out there. I remember feeling like this back in July, but told myself to use it as a tool. First of all, breaking into this world feels like being a new kid at recess, everyone's laughing, playing, making friends and knowingly ignoring others. Some kids are happy, some are sad, some sound confused or unsure of themselves and others are just so much into their own little playgroup to even realize the bell rang and it's time to head back inside.

I keep seeing the same blog on everyone's link list and I'm trying to figure out why. She's like the most popular chick in school. Just like old times, everyone always wants to be connected to the popular kid I guess. I feel pressure to post for fear of loosing any life line I may have created. My question is where the hell do these random people find the time to write as many words as they do? Maybe they don't watch T.V.?, have a job?. Maybe they don't have a life outside their own bedroom or a life inside their head that needs to get out of the bedroom. Who knows, but all I do know is that I don't have the time and I just can't keep up with the pace. Plus blogging feels somewhat empty to me at times.

It's been wonderful to make a mini connection to the mad hatter over there in London, she seems like such a wonderful, kind, soul- but I really have no idea. Maybe I'm just someone who needs that human connection. I don't like not being able to touch. I've also really enjoyed reading about other lesbians out there in the world, it's nice to know so many like the L Word for the same reasons I do. Who cares about the writing sometimes. I started this blog to complain, explain, and converse about and with other lesbians about issues surrounding us as a group. Help me out, because I know you're out there and now I know you can talk. If I was five again I'd hide in my basement, if I was 10, I'd play with the lonely kid on the swings, if I was twenty five I'd be the cool one walking by myself, but I'm no longer a kid and I'm trying to grow up.

If I had my easy bake oven I'd bake a cake and give it to my brother to devour. If I had my little thumbelina doll I'd pull her string, then hold her real close- almost sqish her, but instead I'll write. Or "blog".